Today I had an anxiety attack. By which I mean I felt like I was crawling out of my skin for hours, my meds did just enough to hold me down to earth enough to get by at work, and I spent the majority of the day contemplating every horrible mistake I’d ever done. I wanted to go home and crawl into bed, but I knew being home alone would just make me feel worse. Even after eating, water, and rest with the husband, I feel fucking awful. 

You can’t fix this, loyal reader, but it does help that you listen. 

Some days my brain is hell bent against me.